Shooting Practice
by THiaLieN
Summary: Silva had a friend, and he got the same nasty hobby.


**Warning:** Minor spoilers for Skyfall. Minor violence. Unbeta-ed.

* * *

Bond knew he had to work on his shooting, but he had neglected that particular demand for a long time. With enough disciplines and efforts, it wouldn't be long before he could adjust and narrow the target miss into 4 centimeters, and he could even try to aim with his other hand. But firing practice for MI6 agents requires a great length of time in the range, and being watched by the other workers, trainees, and sometimes fellow agents annoyed him greatly. He earned sympathetic glances and soft cheers for them every time he misses.

Even after Eve, the woman responsible for damaging his shoulder, tried to coax him into practice together, he blatantly refused unless they were going to do it in bed. Mallory tried to once, but Bond ignored him, reasoning that field was always the perfect practicing ground, so he would train while doing mission. In the meantime, when England needed no immediate rescue, he would spend his time torturing his quartermaster with his exploding stationeries requests. Sometimes he would steal the quartermaster's glasses for fun.

Never once he thought he would regret his previous decision of running away. He needed his ability to shoot a target with half a centimeter error, right now. Desperately.

* * *

"Agent, report."

Mallory ordered as he hissed into the speaker and received no response other than the sound of car engines and someone speaking French nearby. He knew Bond's captor had probably removed the earpiece, but Q's latest double micro speakers saved them. When they removed one plug hastily, the other still stayed safely inside.

"M, we can't pinpoint their location. Something was interfering with the tracker signal." Eve told him as she relayed the messages from the Q-branch, "and I can't find Q, they said he already left with Bond three hours ago."

Mallory tugged the microphone closer as he spoke again. "007, I can't contact your quartermaster. He sends me distress signal and we lost it. If he's with you, give me a sign." He waited patiently for an answer.

"_Where are you taking us?"_

Finally, 007.

"_Do shut your mouth, British agent, or I'll shoot you and your companion. What is this boy doing with you anyway?"_

"_He's a civilian."_

"_A civilian with a tracker watch. Perfect."_

A brief struggle and a sickening sound were heard, followed by muffled scream.

"_You're an agent too, aren't you boy?"_

Mallory gritted his teeth in utter displease. He turned to his secretary, "they got Q too. Call Tanner and 006. Now." Eve nodded and hastily spoke to the intercom.

* * *

They arrived in a secluded and wide place, judging from the quietness and the echoing sounds they made as they moved. But Bond knew they were still somewhere in Europe right now. He was getting on and off planes two times already. Even behind the dark thick veil around his head, he could make out some of their conversations. They carefully didn't mention where they were, not even their plan, only reporting to their leader.

Bond was not afraid, at least not for himself. They were MI6 agents. They'd die for the country if they had to. At least Bond would, he wasn't sure about his quartermaster though.

It was not for another hour until he heard that he had visitors. He was tired from kneeling too long, hands tied, cuffed, and brutally plastered behind his back. Apparently the kidnappers were a bunch of paranoid goons with no sense of aesthetic.

When the dark cover lifted from his face, he squinted from the glares. Adjusting his sight, he tried to look for his companion. Then he found his young partner, sitting on the ground not far from him. His hands were cuffed in front of him, and Bond could see the bruise and swelling at his thin wrist, where the tracker watch should have been earlier.

Bond suddenly regretted taking Q out for tea today.

"Hello, James." A man made himself known in front of him. He was tall built, probably two inches taller than him, with a honey brown hair and green eyes. He was nowhere near handsome, but passable for standard. He was wearing a white suit, and his mannerism reminded Bond strongly of Silva.

"So what's this, you'll take us for ransom?" Bond sneered at the man standing before him. The man chuckled in amusement.

"Oh, my name is Julien by the way, and yes, a load of payback money would be nice."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid we have no budget spared for this kind of mishap." Q said from where he sat. He was no longer acting like a frightened civilian since they found out he was also an agent.

"Careful there..." The man approached Q subtly and squatted until their eyes leveled. "I might have to break your other wrist." He taunted. "What is your name again?"

"Something that ends with an R-"

A painful gasp was heard as the man gripped the broken wrist. Bond could see Q was struggling to hold back any scream.

"Someone with a dead wish." The man spat grudgingly at the quivering body, and as if he had a flighty personality, he shifted into his cheerful mood as he turned toward the other agent. Bond was irritated.

"He's right. We have no money to pay you."

"I hold two agents in my grasp, of course England would pay."

Bond scoffed mockingly. "A poor man, I see." that earned him a blow to his jaw. Not quite painful for him though, but it still drew blood.

"I see you have a smart mouth, 007."

"I see you know a lot about me."

"I'm well informed. Ah well, I don't really care about the money though. I just want to do some classy murder of the highly esteemed British agent, one of the infamous double oh's."

Bond couldn't possibly remove his bindings without alarming any person in the room. Even though Q could release himself easily, he couldn't take these four armed men down by himself, and he wouldn't make it four steps toward Bond without being shot in the head. So they waited for a chance. Hopefully M could find a loophole in their silly conversations.

"Don't tell me I've been tied, and sacked like potatoes, shipped twice by planes only to be killed by you."

"It's hard to get planes in Italy. It's a hassle to bring you here, actually."

_"007, extraction team is on the way. 006 managed to track them manually from the scene footage. Stay alive until then."_

Bond heard the voice clear in his ear. He wondered if Q could hear it too since the other man didn't give any respond.

"So why not just kill me at the café earlier?"

"I told you I wished for a classy murder. Now, shall we?"

_"007, which part of 'stay alive' you do not understand?"_

* * *

Bond regretted ever provoking the man. He had to rein himself better next time, especially when he had a fellow hostage. Julien swiftly walked to a suitcase and opened it in front of Bond.

There were knives and needles vary in shapes and sizes. This man's determination to torture was impressive. Bond saw Q visibly flinched from the corner of his eyes.

"If you want to use your molar cyanide poison, I suggest you do it now before I change my mind." If Bond was shocked from hearing this fact, he didn't show it. He watched as Julien hummed while choosing needles, "I always want to see what makes that pitiful guy's face that way."

"You know Silva?"

"I wonder when you will ask. I do have the pleasure of meeting him several times."

"You're doing this for him? Bloody romantic."

"Of course not. But we share the same sentiment toward England, especially MI6."

Bond risked a glance at Q, noticing his quartermaster was fiddling with something on his belt, secretly. He winced every time the metal grazed his swollen wrist.

"Come now, it's either this or that." Julien's voice was disgustingly excited as he dangled the needle in front of him. He was like a child waiting to open his Christmas present.

Bond huffed lazily, "the needle if you don't mind." At least they would live longer. The agent prepared himself for some punctures.

"Very well." He smiled triumphantly and picked a medium-sized knife. "Bring me the boy." he motioned to the startled quartermaster.

"Hey!" The protest left Bond's mouth in reflex. He immediately regretted it. Julien was grinning from ear to ear right now.

"Protective aren't we?"

Bond didn't answer. He looked at Q and saw the man was glaring at him, clearly displeased at Bond's earlier display. 'Now they'll enjoy slicing me even more instead of stabbing me directly to death, you bloody idiot.' Bond could imagine Q's voice in his ear. Then he heard Moneypenny's voice instead of Mallory.

_"30 minutes, agent Bond. You're at an abandoned shelter, 47 miles from Verona. Make sure you and Q don't die. M is contacting Italian service right now."_

"So, what shall we use, 007? I'm getting impatient here."

_"I suggest you chose the needle, it'll be safer."_

This was why Bond plucked his ear plug right into a glass of alcohol beverage when he was on a mission with Eve before. She aggravated him, and definitely not helping at all.

"Is there any other options? Something less a hassle?" Bond was stalling for time right now. Julien made a pondering face as he actually gave it a thought. His face brightened.

"Guns."

_"James Bond, you're a bloody idiot." _

* * *

Bond was standing about 25 feet away from Q, who was also standing while leaning to a large boulder, a scene too familiar for him to ignore. Julien walked up to Q and stroked the younger man's face almost affectionately.

"You afraid, sweetheart?"

"This is the second time I look at you up close, and the sight doesn't settle well with my stomach."

That earned Q a hard blow across his face. It was only a sheer luck his glasses didn't get thrown from the impact. Julien elegantly tip toed as he placed an apple at Q's head, even though he didn't have to, considering he was taller than Q. "Move an inch, and I'll shove the needles right through your pretty eyes."

Bond watched the entire display and started looking around for alternative ways from the corner of his eyes. There were three armed men behind him and probably more at the other side. Julien was not visibly holding any gun right now. Bond could risk a struggle, but it could end far worse for both of them.

_"20 minutes until the extraction team arrive. Bond, keep stalling and stop provoking him."_

He did know that. But this guy's mind was as unpredictable as a toddler with a fork, who could calmly eats one time and then stabs someone in the eye. Maybe he should've let the guy sliced Q slowly earlier.

"I dare you to shoot the apple. If you can do it, I'll let you die quickly. How's that?"

"And him?"

"Oh, he'll die anyway, don't worry."

Bond might as well shot Q himself in the head then. But he was stalling, and he was playing. There was still hope. 18 minutes.

"If I can shoot the apple right through, without it falling to the ground, how about we do Russian Roulette?"

Julien laughed at that. "Oh, Bond. You're so demanding. No wonder Silva was very fond of you." He said as he sighed in a mock sympathy. "Very well then, but it'll be between you and him. That'll be fun. Or maybe we should try that first."

_"007, stop giving him ideas!"_

"Whatever pleases the host?" Bond replied calmly. 16 minutes. Julien clicked his tounge.

"Let's stick to the first. I don't think you can hit the apple anyway."

"What makes you so sure?"

"My hare brained friend once slipped, that you've lost your touch in _target_ shooting." he smirked amusedly. "Release him."

"You do have the same hobby." Bond stared disgustedly at the red fruit as they removed his three layered restraints, "but with a lower elegance."

Julien shoved a gun to Bond's hand. "One bullet. I have to take precaution after all."

He took the gun and slowly familiarizing himself with the grip. He wouldn't be able to shoot, and he knew it. The stiff feelings on his wrists and shoulders from the restraints earlier didn't help either.

_"007, 13 minutes.__ I bet you're regretting your constant refusals when I tried to drag you to the shooting range."_

Yes he did, deeply.

The vivid images of the scene 5 months earlier flooded back into him. He missed the shot and Silva finished it for him, clean on the head. Bond regretted her loss, but he got over it as quickly. But if Q were to die in the same manner, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

"_007, don't shoot."_

He noticed Q's hand was trembling slightly, but he didn't sniff and sob like the previous woman did, with mascara slobbering all over her cheeks as she wept pathetically. No, Q didn't. He was standing bravely, staring straight into Bond's eyes with unwavering trust. Now the agent realized how much the situation affected him.

Bond wondered if Q knew about him failing his shooting test, and that it was the previous M who allowed him to stay on the field. The way Q looked at him, Bond realized that Q must know, yet he still put his faith in the agent.

Q's gaze was fearless and determined, as if he was ready should he die by the agent's hand.

"What are you waiting for? Shoot." His tone was winning, eager, and challenging. Bond aimed, hesitating.

9 minutes.

_"James. No."_

Bond felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. Q didn't even close his eyes, encouraging him. Julien impatiently pulled a gun from his suit. "Or I'll just shoot him first." In that split second, Bond released the shot and gasped as Q fell unceremoniously to the ground.

The apple rolled away, unscathed.

* * *

_"Oh my. It's a pity..."_

Mallory and Eve could hear the mocking tone between Bond's audible harsh breaths on the receiver. Eve was trying her best not to show his distress.

"How could he missed?!" She was mad at Bond for not taking the training seriously, but she was going to blame herself for getting Bond injured in the first place.

_"Bond, looking at your face now, I think I'll spare you with only four shots to the limbs before I go for your head. You look pitiful."_

5 minutes.

_"Go ahead. Now."_

"007, what are you-"

"Calm down Miss Moneypenny, I don't think he missed." and they heard the explosion.

* * *

He knew Q didn't die, because he shot Q on purpose. He knew Q had something up behind his sleeve. When Bond distracted Julien, he just didn't expect there was an exploding glasses thrown at their feet.

Bond didn't waste time, he drove a hard punch to the man behind him and landed a kick on the bodyguard's stomach to his left. He took the gun, disarmed the man on his right, and shoot Julien twice on the stomach before aiming at 5 newcomers.

Three shots were heard. Q apparently dragged himself to a nearby gun on the ground, blood was seeping through his cardigan and leaving red trails on the dirty ground. He shot three times at Julien who was trying to stand despite the fatal wound. One of them managed to graze the man.

Bond finished the shot for him.

After he made sure the other four men died by adding more shots to their lifeless body, he ran to his quartermaster. Q already dropped the gun he was holding and openly gasps in pain now. The older agent frowned as he assessed Q's wound on the shoulder.

"How come the closed fracture in my wrist is more painful than the shot in my shoulder?" He asked to no one in particular.

2 minutes.

"Thanks for trusting your life in me, Q," was all Bond could say as he pressed his palm to the bleeding wound.

"I didn't have much choice."

"You looked so determined back then when I aimed at you. You looked like you were ready to die."

"Don't misjudge me, 007, I'm not a silly romanticist who would prefer to die by a specific person's hand. I just knew you wouldn't miss."

Bond hands shook terribly at the last remark. He did miss the target. He was aiming for Q's upper arm, hoping he would make a clean shot, a risky distraction. It hit an entirely different area. Not a vital one, but he missed nonetheless. It was so close to the chest he could've hit something far worse.

"But I missed."

"Don't give me that face, 007. When I had the chance to shoot earlier, I missed three of them. At least you're better than me." Q tried to sit up as they heard commotion from afar. Help was here. Bond carefully braced him on either side.

When he failed to answer, Q glared at him, "don't get sentimental on me now, 007, you annoy me, and I still have my exploding belt on reserved for annoying people."

"Just how many explosives you have on you Q?" he asked as he gazed into Q's unfocused eyes. The quartermaster was helpless without his glasses.

"My belt, and my right shoe. The one in my glasses was intended for you though, I thought I'd pull it off the next time you hid them." this made Bond smile a little.

"At least let me make it up to you. Another tea perhaps?"

"A cup of tea for a gunshot wound?" he gave the taller man an incredulous look. "If you really want to make it up to me, you'll start your shooting practice right away after we're back at MI6, _and_ you will stop making my office your personal hide-out."

_"I agree with him, 007."_

"Before that Q, please tell me how do I get rid of this ear piece."


End file.
